


All That I Am

by warriorlorcan



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-26
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-09-27 02:23:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9945989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/warriorlorcan/pseuds/warriorlorcan
Summary: Elain has been miserable ever since she was tossed into that forsaken Cauldron in Hybern. No one has noticed her deterioration. Until, one day, she and Nesta are sent into the Spring Court to help Feyre on her reconnaissance mission. Meeting Lucien is a lot of things for Elain: confusing, infuriating, strange, and strangely intriguing. Will Lucien noticed how uncomfortable Elain is in her own body and help her feel okay again?





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> so i just randomly got the idea for this fic and decided to start it. it’ll probably be 3-4 parts in the end. i’ve never written elucien before, so i hope that this is okay!
> 
> thanks to sarah for constant support and helping me edit this 
> 
> comments always welcome!

No one is there for Elain. Not with Nesta standing by, in all her loud, violent glory. Nesta screams for days, until her voice is hoarse, even after that, and Elain doesn’t know how anyone can bear to be around her anymore. But then one day, she stops. Elain is there to watch her, sitting on a bench at the edge of one of the many terraces in the House of Wind. Angry tears drip down her sister’s chin, her face contorted. She’s holding onto the metal railing, the only thing keeping her from vaulting herself over the edge. And then it melts beneath her touch, just like that.

Nesta pulls back quickly, staring at her hands as if they were something foreign. Elain thinks that maybe they are. A flicker of a flame dances across Nesta’s fingertips and she yelps. One of the warriors comes running when Nesta stops screaming, worried she’d been hurt, but Elain doesn’t care enough to see which one it is. All she sees is him leading Nesta back inside, talking excitedly about her new power, and a glimpse of Nesta’s teeth as she smiles. Elain is left alone. Forgotten. Ignored.

After a couple of weeks, Nesta no longer resents herself. Elain’s sister, proud and stubborn to the bone, knows that she was never at home in the human world. She was too strong, too rugged for their liking. But here, in Prythian, she thrives. Feyre’s court flutters around her eldest sister, never leaving her alone for more than a few minutes, but no longer to monitor her, but because they enjoy being around her. As it all turns out, that damned Cauldron was the best thing that could have happened to her.

Elain only shrunk away more and more. She took her meals alone in her room; no one came to join her. She’d always thought that the one thing she could count on, if nothing else, was her sister. Nesta had been her rock ever since they’d been children, taking care of her, watching her, protecting her. Theoretically, Elain didn’t need protecting anymore. Her new Fae body had elongated her legs and the shape of her face, taking her from faintly beautiful to a striking, dangerous, inhuman creature. It was almost impossible to hide her ears, the tips of each coming to a devilish point.

A few weeks into their stay at the Night Court, Elain tried to cut them off. She put a towel in her mouth and brought a knife she’d found in one of the training rooms she’d followed Nesta to up to her ear. The knife wasn’t sharp enough, it was too difficult to cut through the cartilage and by that point, she was already crying and screaming against the pain. She gave up and her ear healed quickly. This made her cry even more.

She curled into her bed, a pillow held against her stomach and let herself weep. Elain had never cried as much as she did in the weeks after her transformation. She wept for Graysen, her love that now could never be. She wept for Nesta, a sister she was losing, slowly, but still losing. She wept for Feyre, too, angry at the role she’d played in all of this, sad that Elain had never been the sister Feyre deserved. But most of all, Elain wept for herself. She wept for the body that she’d loved and cherished and was forcibly taken from her. For the loss of her home, her father, her family. Elain cried and cried and clenched her fists so hard they broke the skin. No one came to see her, to check on her, make sure she was okay.

Elain had always been the gentler sister, kinder, more accepting. Of course, if Nesta had found a way to live in her new body, to _thrive_ in it, Elain had, too. No one paid attention to her silent screams, most didn’t even notice she had holed herself up in her room.

Nesta had come in one afternoon to invite Elain to train with her and Commander Cassian. Her elder sister had smiled, actually _smiled_ , and held her hand out. Elain had told her she hadn’t slept well the night before and wasn’t feeling up to it, but maybe next time. Nesta pressed a silent kiss to her sister’s forehead and left. Once the door had shut, Elain heard her sister already talking animatedly to the commander.

Elain had not discovered any powers yet. She didn’t know whether to be grateful or not. Nesta’s powers had completely changed her outlook on her new body, new _species_. Elain had wished for days that she would wake up one morning with the ability to manipulate water. The more she thought about it, the more the thought made her feel sick. What kind of _abomination_ could manipulate things the way the Fae did? Not to mention that it seemed Nesta’s powers were different from the other High Fae.

No, Elain did not want powers. She was enough of a monster already.

~

“We’ve made the decision. Tamlin has demanded you two be… _returned_ to him,” Rhysand scoffed at the word. “He’ll have no idea what hit him. The two of you are much more powerful than he could ever imagine.”

Elain fought the urge to scream that she was no such thing.

“You’ll have to be careful,” Cassian said, his eyes trained on Nesta, as they always were. She glared back at him, though playfully. “He’s not expecting you to fight back. You must do your best to keep it that way. If Tamlin suspects anything at all, we’re all screwed.”

_We’re screwed anyway_ , Elain thought bitterly. Of course, she wanted to help Feyre, but she knew she would be of no use. She wasn’t as smart as Nesta, wasn’t as powerful as Nesta, wasn’t as daring as Nesta.

Her sister was saying something to the group assembled, but Elain didn’t process any of it. Her mind was back in their small town, back in Graysen’s house with the iron wall around it. She now knew that iron would do nothing to deter her, but it was the intention behind it that mattered. Elain would never be loved again, not in this body. How could anyone love a beast?

She thought of the tight-lipped smiles Lord Nolan had given her when Graysen had first shown her the house. Graysen had led her first to his bedroom, then to the chambers that would be hers once they were married. He’d held her hand the whole time, his dark skin in deep contrast with her fragile, pale hands. When they’d reached her future living quarters, his hand had glided up her arm lightly as he pressed careful kisses to both of her cheeks, then her nose. Elain’s cheeks were burning with blush by the time he’d reached her mouth.

He had loved her. And she had loved him. She _did_ love him. Graysen hated the Fae as much as his father, but he had always been gentle with her, gentle with everybody. The servants of their household adored him, his younger sisters always crowded around his legs. When his mother was sick, he’d been the one to make her stay in bed and tend to her.

Elain missed him ferociously. Yet she knew that if she ever took a step anywhere near his estate, she would be killed. Rightfully so. She was a monster. There was nothing to keep her in check, no way for her to not be dangerous. And that was without any powers.  She shivered, thinking what Graysen would say if he saw her now.

“Elain?” Nesta mumbled, her hand pressed lightly to her sister’s shoulder. Elain snapped out of her daze, smiling faintly and sweetly up at her sister. Nesta relaxed, falling back into the familiar understanding that Elain was fine and happy. Beneath the table, Elain’s fingernails pierced the skin of her palm. She hid the blood with her other hand.

Azriel spoke. Sweet, kind Azriel who Elain had thought to find a friend in. Thought that he might notice her absences, her lack of concentration and care.

“You leave tomorrow.”

~

Elain felt more like herself again. They’d given her clothes much more familiar to her, minus the layers of petticoats. Her dress was a stiff material, but soft. In the human realms, she would have worn a corset under it, but the High Fae had told her it was unnecessary and not in fashion in Prythian.

There was a floral design coating each plait of fabric, falling all the way down to the floor. Her hair was braided into a careful crown around her head, wisps of curls escaping to frame her face. Unfortunately, her ears were on full display in this hairstyle. She tried desperately to pull the tight braid down, force it to cover the fact of her abomination, but Mor had done her work well and it would not budge.

She held on tight to Nesta’s hand as Mor took hold of them both, abruptly winnowing them into the Spring Court without so much as a goodbye from the other members of Rhysand’s court. Elain lurched out of Mor’s arms the second they touched down, doubling over. Winnowing was an odd sensation, and one she’d only felt once before. Winnowing out of Hybern had not been a pleasant experience, especially after the trauma of the day, and the feeling of going from nothing into something set her off balance.

“This is where I leave you,” Mor said. They’d agreed the day before that it would be too dangerous for Rhysand to winnow them into the Spring Court, and just as dangerous for Morrigan to take them all the way to Tamlin’s estate. “The manor is less than a mile past the top of this hill. You two can walk directly North and you’ll find it. Follow the tree line. Good luck.”

Elain thought she saw Nesta give the female a hug out of the corner of her eye, but she couldn’t be sure. She was too consumed with the landscape around her. The air was slightly brisk, but not uncomfortable. She could smell pollen and the mixed fragrances of flowers and pines in the air. Elain closed her eyes. If she didn’t think too much, she could pretend she was standing in her garden back at their manor house. Nesta had helped her replant it when their fortune had mysteriously returned, something that she now knew was her sister’s ex-fiancé’s doing.

Elain hated him with a passion that she’d never felt before. It was _his fault_ she was like this, even more than it was Feyre’s, but she couldn’t deny how grateful she had been for their lives to return to normal after so many years crouching in the hovel they called a home.

Mor left them in less than the blink of an eye. Nesta immediately began trudging up the small hill in front of them. Elain followed obediently, doing her best to keep pace with her sister.

Nesta had been training for months now and her body had gotten strong. Where both had previously had sharp corners from their near starvation, Nesta now had steady curves of muscle following each stretch of bone. Their months in the Night Court, as Fae, had healed them both better, but Elain had rarely left her room. She wasn’t weak—it was impossible to be as a High Fae—but she wasn’t nearly as strong as her sister. Nesta forged ahead, covering the mile in less than twenty minutes. Elain did her best not to show her exhaustion.

When they reach the outskirts of the manor, Elain’s mouth almost dropped open. The grounds were covered in the most beautiful gardens she’d ever seen. Roses and hyacinths and water lilies and hydrangeas. A small pond to the left of where they stood held lily pads that seemed to move across the surface of the water. The scent of the flowers was even stronger here. Elain fought the urge to rush into the middle of all the flowers and run her fingers along them. She wouldn’t have minded if a rose bush pricked her.

Elain was so happy to find some sense of normalcy, some aspect of her old life here in this strange new world that she didn’t notice her sister running through the double doors towards them. Feyre crushed Nesta into a hug first. Nesta hesitated, but eventually gave in, burying her head into Feyre’s shoulder. Nesta would never have showed that she was scared for her sister, worried about her, but Elain had known better. She knew that Nesta stayed awake some nights, wishing that Feyre was safe, her door locked against any of the vile males in her presence.

Nesta did her best to protect her family in whatever way she knew how. Elain could only imagine what she would do if harm were to come to either of them now. Burn the world down, likely.

Feyre muttered something in Nesta’s ear that Elain couldn’t decipher from where she stood, still looking longingly into the gardens.

Her younger sister found her next. Elain hadn’t felt so comforted in a while. Silently, she cursed herself for wanting protection and comfort from anyone, but she melted into Feyre’s embrace anyway, clutching onto her sister for dear life.

Maybe Feyre would see what was happening to her. Maybe she could help. Elain cast the idea out of her mind. Feyre _loved_ being High Fae. It was who she was meant to be. Elain saw that in her now, just as she had the first time Feyre had come back to their manor to ask for a meeting place. Elain shrunk away from her embrace and Feyre looked into her eyes. Elain saw a hardness there that she hadn’t noticed before. Months in the Spring Court had not been kind to Feyre.

Elain looked up and saw Tamlin traipsing about the gardens, leisurely making his way towards the three sisters. He looked wary. It had been too easy to get Rhysand to agree to send them to him. When he finally stood in front of them, Feyre turned and plastered a smile on her face.

“Thank you, Tam.” His eyes softened as he looked down at her. In some twisted way, he did love her. The thought made Elain shiver. She was sure Nesta was thinking the same thing. Elain moved towards her and grabbed her sister’s hand, squeezing lightly to reassure her. Nesta was at a constant risk of exploding, and that would only blow their cover now. As much as she hated herself, Elain loved her sisters more. She would do anything to protect them.

“Anything for you,” he said, pushing a piece of hair behind Feyre’s ear. Elain didn’t know how she fought a flinch.

“Thank you, High Lord,” Elain said finally, curtsying. Just because she was a beast now didn’t mean she couldn’t be polite. He nodded at her in acknowledgement. “Come, we’ll get rooms set up for the both of you. You’re family now.” Elain shivered at the thought.

Tamlin led them through the garden’s paths, guiding them into the manor. Elain looked to her right, trying to survey the gardens, and she saw a Fae male watching her cautiously. He was standing a good distance away, but his red hair gave him away. The long locks were braided and thrown over one of his shoulders and his metal eye glinted in the sunlight.

When they’d first met, he’d told a room full of both enemies and friends that she was his mate. She felt nothing to indicate that what he’d said was true. She didn’t even really understand how the Fae notion of mates worked. He kept his distance. Elain was grateful.

She hurried into the house after her sisters. The marble floors were beautiful. The whole house was beautiful. It was a place Elain would have been able to picture herself living, under different circumstances. She loosed a sigh and began climbing the stairs. Tamlin gestured towards her bedroom. It was right next to Nesta’s, which comforted both of them a little bit.

Tamlin told them that he’d let them settle in. Dinner would be ready shortly and he’d have someone come to retrieve them. The sisters eagerly escaped into their rooms.

~

Elain didn’t want to go to dinner. A servant stood at her door, waiting for her to pull herself out of the bed she’d been given. Elain’s chest was tucked tightly under the plush covers, her hair frizzy and askew from the fitful sleep she’d been in just moments before.

Begrudgingly, she tugged herself out of bed, carefully brushing off and straightening the thick fabric of her dress. She nodded at the servant and the stout female led her downstairs. She ran her hand along the bannister as she descended the stairs. Everything felt like it was thrumming with life in the Spring Court. Elain silently wished it wasn’t enemy territory.

The hall they were to take their dinner in was larger than any single room Elain had ever seen. It was at least three times the size of her bedroom. Elain wondered why anyone would need a room so magnificent. The table in the center of the room was already mostly filled when she got there, only two seats left empty. Nesta sat to Feyre’s right, who sat to Tamlin’s left. Elain took her seat across from Nesta.

The table was already heaping with gorgeous plates of food: roasted chicken, pureed cauliflower, a tureen of some sort of vegetables mixed together. Elain’s mouth watered. This food looked familiar to her, though she knew that the taste would far surpass anything she’d eaten in the mortal realms.

Everyone was silent. Nesta was clutching her fork so hard that her knuckles were turning white. Feyre’s hand was tentatively set in the palm of Tamlin’s, and Elain knew that the touch made her sister’s skin crawl. Tamlin held Feyre like he was afraid to let go, like taking a finger off her would cause her to revolt, to destroy something. He was gentle with her as much as he was forceful. Though Elain assumed that he wasn’t treating her sister much better than before save for showering her with gifts and allowing her a somewhat free reign of his estate. He’d allowed her outside that day, to meet them in the gardens.

The doors clanged open and Elain heard footsteps crossing the floor, a sword clacking against something metal, servants shuffling to make way.

“How was it today?” Tamlin’s voice echoed through the hall.

“Same as always. They’re staying off our borders, for the most part.” Elain knew the man with the gruff voice behind her was Lucien. By now, she thought she would have been able to recognize his voice anywhere. She had nightmares about that day often, when she had been forced into the Cauldron. Every one ended with his voice uttering the same words. _My mate_.

Elain’s body tensed as Lucien sat down beside her, the only open seat. It was no coincidence that she was sitting next to her supposed mate. She looked up from her plate at Nesta. Surely she’d planned this, or Feyre had. Nesta glared back at her. She could hear what Nesta’s words would be. _Gain us the advantage, Elain_.

Elain didn’t feel comfortable manipulating this male into telling her enemy secrets, but she knew it was what had to be done. They’d talked about it for a couple of weeks now. He deserved it, she told herself. He’d contributed to her demise. He’d helped steal her from her betrothed, her _beloved_. She fought the urge to kick him under the table.

He didn’t acknowledge her. Elain had to admit, it hurt a little bit. He was supposed to be attracted to her or in love with her or something like that, right? But all he did was slide his jacket from his shoulders, sling it across the back of his chair, and start serving himself.

The rest of the table dug in as well. The only noise in the room was the clanking of metal against china as they each piled food onto their plates.

~

Elain had been right; the food was divine. She had to stop herself from taking second helpings of everything. When everyone had finished, she politely excused herself. Elain found her way to the gardens. The sun was still setting, a perk of it always being spring here, and the flowers were painted with oranges and pinks of the most brilliant shades.

She let herself walk around for a while, naming the flowers she knew as she passed. She found a batch of tulips that looked a little dry, so she searched for a servant to try and ask for some water for them. There was no one around. Elain let out a short huff of frustration. She just wanted to be able to control something as simple as flowers. She realized that she was even less important here at the Spring Court than she was with Nesta in Velaris.

“Looking for this?” The deep voice rumbled behind her and she shivered. It felt extremely odd hearing the voice of her nightmares while she was awake. She turned to see him holding a metal watering can. She nodded and stood to retrieve it from him, returning to the flowers as quickly as she could. She could still feel his presence behind her.

“I like the gardens, too,” he muttered. It was as if he felt uncomfortable talking to her. She surely felt uncomfortable talking to him.

“They’re… comforting.” It was silent for a minute as she tipped the water into the flowers, careful to make sure it spread as evenly as possible. Her hand reached to touch the petals. It felt like home.

“I could ask Tam to section off an area for a garden of your own,” he said. “Only if you want.”

Elain smiled a little to herself.

“That would be very kind of you.” She turned to face him. The tips of his pointed ears were turning red. It was strangely endearing. He was being careful with his words, making sure not to scare her.

“Maybe you’d let me help you?” His hands tugged nervously at the tips of his long hair. Though she wanted to say no, she knew it was her duty to her sisters, to everyone, to say yes.

“Tomorrow?” She said, smiling faintly at him. It wasn’t a real smile this time. He nodded at her and turned to go back inside. Elain sat in the garden for hours, until everything was pitch black and she could only smell and touch the beautiful bulbs of tulips.


	2. Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yet again i have proven to be weak and am posting this chapter a little early. i haven't really gotten started on part 3 yet, but i have a good idea of what i'm doing, so hopefully i'll have at least a little time to write this week. 
> 
> as always, comments are welcome!

Elain’s first day with Lucien in the gardens was nothing like she had expected it would be. He didn’t force her to say anything and he hadn’t spoken much either. Elain had scrounged up a more comfortable outfit, loose trousers and a top that flowed off her dainty form. She’d realized begrudgingly that she’d picked something more akin to what she had worn during her time in the Night Court and less like what she would have worn at home.

She didn’t work up the courage to ask him about anything of importance, and she didn’t think he trusted her enough to tell her anything yet, anyway. Mate or not, they still had no relationship at all.

Being around Lucien made Elain feel like she was betraying Graysen, betraying herself. She knew her love for the Lord’s son had been real, but this newfound bond with Lucien felt like it was forcing her to negate the feelings she’d had for the human boy. Since humans didn’t have mating bonds, could they really feel love at all? The question kept Elain up late many nights in a row.

She sat at the window in her bedroom, looking over the gardens. She slept in late most mornings, sat flower-side with Lucien in the afternoons, retired immediately after dinner, but didn’t sleep.

She wore her hair down every day. If she didn’t look in the mirror, it was easier to pretend that nothing had changed. She was at home in their tiny village, Graysen just a few minutes away from coming to get her. This was her garden. These were her roses, her tulips. She was normal again, human. Everything was as it should be.

But some days Lucien would sit next to her and she’d feel that strange tug towards him, the center of her gut urging her to get closer, to see what it would be like to run her fingers through his hair, over his lips, across his jaw. Elain told herself that it was just primal. The mate bond didn’t _mean_ anything. It never would. Not for her, not for them.

One day, Lucien sat next to her as she tended to the roses, choosing only the most beautiful and unblemished to snip and put into a bouquet. She picked a new batch of flowers to place by the windowsill in her room every day. It comforted her to have the sweet fragrance floating through the foreign chamber.

“How do you decide which to pick?” He said it quietly. Everything Lucien said was quiet, she noticed. She shrugged nonchalantly, examining the bud between her fingers closely.

“If there are too many petals, the rose looks cluttered. If there are too few, it looks sickly. You have to find the perfect balance between the two in order to find the perfect rose. It takes practice.”

“You practice picking roses?” It sounded almost like he was teasing her, but Elain had never heard him say an ill word to anyone in the manor, save for an argument she’d overheard with Tamlin. She narrowed her eyes slightly and turned to face him.

“I assume you practice with your sword,” she said defiantly. “It’s no different. I find all your armor and… violence ridiculous, but I’ve never said anything.”

She turned back to her roses. For they were _her_ roses. The servants had stopped tending to the garden when she’d gotten there, and she didn’t think the High Lord paid much attention to anything other than her sister and his attempt at a kingdom.

Lucien let out a breath. It might have even been a laugh. If she would have turned around, she would have found disbelief on the redhead’s features, his lips turned up in a devilish smirk.

“Thank you for sparing my feelings, my lady.” He _was_ teasing her. Elain fought a smile.

“You did seem rather fragile,” she said, under her breath. But Lucien heard her and laughed outright, a quick bark of amusement and surprise.

They spent the rest of the afternoon in a comfortable silence that had not been present before. Elain felt her shoulders relax for the first time since being in the Spring Court. Lucien would point to flowers, silently asking if they were perfect enough for her. They never were and she’d shake her head, fighting an exasperated sigh after the fifth attempt.

When they got up to leave, Lucien turned to face Elain. She was wearing a pretty pair of light pink trousers that glossed over her curves and her hair fell in careful waves, like it always had. To those on the outside, it would look like Elain was permanently ready to be seen by the public. In reality, she was just so pleasant looking that it was hard for her to look anything less than pretty.  

“Would you like to join me for a ride tomorrow?” Lucien paused. “Elain.”

He had never said her name before, at least not while in her presence. It had an oddly chilling effect. Elain’s muscles tightened and then released in rapid succession. She opened her mouth to kindly refuse his offer, but before she could, he spoke again.

“In the morning. We’ll be back before it’s your gardening time. I promise.”

Elain considered it for a second longer, squeezing her fist again.

“I will be holding you to that oath,” she said finally before turning on her heels and strutting back into the manor, her gentle curls bouncing across her back.

Lucien let out a breath, a blush spreading to his ears, but Elain didn’t turn to see.

~

Lucien took her out among the grounds for a while, letting her get used to the feel of a horse beneath her. She had admitted to him that she’d never been very good with the beasts, but had assured him that she did not need, or want, to ride along with him, atop his own steed. He coached her gently. Pull up on the reigns here, loosen them here.

Elain was grateful. She’d never been good with animals and had been more worried than she would have cared to admit that she would be bucked off the horse within the first few minutes.

“I have something I’d like to show you. May I?” Elain voice her consent and Lucien steered his horse off to the left, into the rolling hills of the Spring Court’s lands.

They didn’t have to ride for long before Lucien slowed and helped Elain down from her horse. He tied both of the beasts up to a tree and led her though a patch of aspens and oaks. The sight she was met with was definitely not what she was expecting.

The clearing in front of them was overflowing with the most beautiful wildflowers she’d ever seen. No two flowers were the same, each of them mixed in with every other blossoming bud. Elain drew in a breath, not even bothering to look at Lucien before she darted into the fray. Each flower was a distinctly different hue, all complimenting one another. She almost felt tears draw into the corners of her yes.

“Do you know what they are?” Lucien asked softly, his fingers tracing a batch of Maximillian sunflowers. Elain nodded. She moved through the field, running her hands carefully along the petals as she told Lucien all of their names. Blanket flowers, blue sage, foxglove, Iceland poppies, gerbera daisies. Elain wanted to fall to the ground and lay amongst the comfort of her flowers for the rest of eternity, but she would never risk squishing any of them.

Instead, she walked up to where the flowers ended and the soft grass began, sitting down. It was a slight uphill climb and from here she could see the entire field spread before her.

“Tell me about them.” Elain looked up at Lucien, startled. He sat down next to her, not close enough to touch but not too far either. He nodded out at the field.

“Foxgloves, the purple, bell-like ones, don’t grow until their second year, but then they reseed on their own. So, you have to plant them two years in a row before you’ll see them, but never again. They get tall. I have some at home that are almost taller than me.” Elain paused. Her home. Oh, how she missed the simplicity of having a home. Somewhere to return to when she was feeling upset or lonely. She continued on.

“The gerbera daisies, they’re normally that red color. They work nicely inside because they don’t require a lot of care as long as you can give them a lot of sunlight. Then you just water regularly and they’ll thrive. I put a pot of them in Nesta’s room. It has the most sunlight in the house.”

Elain told him more about the poppies and about other flowers, too. She told him about the windflowers she’d planted last spring, but they hadn’t lasted very long and she didn’t think she’d plant them again. The snapdragons that had been her very first flower in their new garden. They were still her favorite. She told him of the columbine flowers she’d made into a bouquet for Nesta after Feyre had left. Nesta had been an absolute wreck then and Elain had tried to cheer her up. Nesta had ended up throwing the flowers on the floor and stomping on them once Elain had left the room.

Lucien listened carefully. Elain was surprised at how nice it was to get to talk again. Everyone always assumed she was the quiet sister and she was; when hidden behind Nesta’s boisterous personality. But Elain liked to talk, too. She liked to share things that had happened to her and go to parties and dance all night. She’d done those things with Graysen. She was struck again by how much she missed everything about him: his dark hair, dark skin, dark eyes, the softness of his hands from the cream his mother made, the way he’d whisper in her ear when they were at parties, secrets just for them. She missed the way he made her laugh, a bubbling, overwhelming kind of laughter that she could never hold in. And Graysen had never wanted her to.

Elain scooted further away from Lucien. He was still looking at her. This time, he spoke.

“My mother loved flowers, too. I’d play in the gardens when I was growing up. There are very few flowers that bloom as beautifully in Autumn as others do in Spring. My favorite were the lanterns. They were all over the garden. Have you ever seen them?” Elain shook her head. “They’re yellow and red and orange. They’re like little heart-shaped boxes made out of petals. I loved them. Once, I tried to pick them to put in water, but they’re hanging flowers and I didn’t cut them correctly. They died within the next day.”

~

Elain and Lucien returned to the field every morning after that. They talked more now, after their first day, and Elain felt calm around him. It was easy to talk to Lucien. He never interrupted or discounted what she was saying. He just listened, nodded and understood.

He talked, too. He told her about growing up in Autumn, an incredibly toxic environment for him. He talked of how it had hardened him and eventually forced him to denounce his title in favor of the Spring Court and Tamlin. It made Elain hate Tamlin a little less. No one who was truly wicked could take someone in the way he had with Lucien.

After a few weeks of visiting the field with him, Elain felt comfortable around Lucien. They’d still yet to talk about the pulsing, flowing bond between them, but Elain didn’t mind. Whenever she thought about it, it only confused her more.

“Tamlin thinks we will be safe from this war,” Lucien said to her one day, both of them laying in the grass above the wildflowers, each of their elbows propped up so they could look at one another. “He believes that if we allow them use of the outskirts of our lands, Hybern will not attack us.”

“And what do you believe?”

Lucien scoffed, pulling his hair from his left shoulder and moving it behind his back.

“I think he’s a damned idiot and he’ll get us all killed.” Elain thought for a minute.

“I’d rather he didn’t,” she said finally. Lucien barked his laughter again. Elain loved when he did that. Each time, it was like he was surprised at what she was saying, didn’t expect humor from her.

“Me, as well, flower.” Elain felt a blush creep up to her ears, thankfully still covered with her hair.

“He’s blinded by Feyre being here. He thinks it makes everything alright. Like nothing could go wrong. I don’t see how he could stand by and watch as Hybern tries to enslave us.” Elain winced at her mistake. “ _Them_.”

He studied her face carefully before saying anything, his russet-colored eye sweeping across her features, gaze seeming to burn wherever it touched. His metal eye and scar didn’t look so grotesque to Elain now. In fact, it was part of what made Lucien so beautiful.

Lucien leaned forward carefully and touched a thumb to her brow. It was calloused and hard, but surprisingly gentle when wisped across her skin.

“You’ve got a lot going on up there. Why doesn’t anyone know that?” He asked softly. Elain held her breath. He didn’t drop his hand.

“No one has ever asked,” she said, equally as quiet. It was the truth. Even Graysen had never truly thought she’d had ideas of her own, thoughts and convictions on things.

Elain’s eyes fluttered closed as Lucien began to carefully run his thumb along her face, outlining every dip and curve of her bones, every soft stretch of her skin. Her breathing hitched. It had been a long while since anyone had touched her so gently.

“I see you, Elain,” he mumbled. She swallowed hard.

“I know.”

~

A few days later, Elain was practically bouncing up and down as she waited for Lucien to find her in their usual gardening spot. He was only a few minutes late, but the excitement rushing through Elain was almost unbearable. When she saw him coming through the double doors, his bright hair tied into a braid cascading down his back, a grin broke through her lips. She hadn’t smiled that wide in months, a year maybe.

“You look happy today, dove.” Elain nodded.

“I have something for you.” Lucien faked a gasp, pressing his hand against his chest.

“For _me?_ ” Elain rolled her eyes and hit him lightly on the shoulder.

“Shut up and follow me, you insufferable lout.” Lucien laughed, but did as he was bid.

She stopped in front of a section of the garden they hadn’t been to before. It looked mostly the same as the other sections, but clearly there was something special about this specific area. Lucien looked at Elain through the sides of his eye.

“Very nice, Elain. But I’m fairly certain it’s quite similar to the other parts of this garden.”

Elain pushed him forward a little.

“Look closer, Lucien. Do you really think I’d bring you to look at something you’ve already seen dozens of times?” Lucien stepped forward, bending down to be able to see the details of the flowers better.

When he noticed them, his heart stopped for a brief minute. Lucien kneeled, not caring that his trousers were going to be covered in dirt. Elain came to join him, sitting closer than they normally did. Lucien lifted his hand to touch the orange box of petals.

“Do you like them?” Elain wasn’t looking at the flowers, she was studying the mix of emotions on Lucien’s delicate face.

“Yes,” he said, his voice choking on the word. “Yes, very much.”

“I thought… well, since you can’t be there, then at least these can be here. I thought they might comfort you.”

The day Lucien had told her the story of his favorite flowers; Elain had gone straight to a servant and asked her to find them for her. She researched in books, trying to find out if the flowers could live in Spring as well. They could. She’d planted them a couple weeks ago, but waited until they were flourishing in the gardens before showing them to Lucien.

“They will. They do.” Lucien set his hand on hers and she felt pinpricks go up her arm. “Thank you, flower.”

He reached his other hand up to push her hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering there on her cartilage. Elain winced and pulled back from him, turning her face slightly away.

“Elain?” Lucien’s voice was dripping with concern.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “I’m still not… used to them.” She said, settling on the right word choice to share with this male. What she wanted to say was that she hated them, that they were a symbol of the world she was taken away from, the disgusting creature she was turned into.

They were silent for a while, angry tears threatening to burn down Elain’s cheeks.

“Do you know why I like watching you garden? Why I sit here and watch you water and preen each of the flowers individually?”

“Because you can’t do it yourself?” Elain asked, trying to throw a joking lilt into her voice. Lucien chuckled quietly.

“Because you look so at peace. Everywhere else, your brow is furrowed, your eyes darkened and closed off. But out here, it’s like the flowers have seeped into your skin. It’s the only time I see you smile.”

“Peace,” Elain said, considering Lucien’s words. “I am not _at peace_. This body is not made for _peace_. I am meant to be a creature of destruction and pain and hardship. I mourn the days when I was at peace, Lucien. I never will be again.” Her tears had finally spilled and Elain stood abruptly, walking as quickly back into the manor as she could. Lucien did not follow her.

~

Elain avoided Lucien like a disease for the next week. It was too painful to be around him, knowing what she’d said about herself and his kind. It also hurt to know that Lucien now knew a part of her that no one else did.

She missed the gardens. She missed their field. But if she was to stay away from the red-haired male, she couldn’t go to either of those places. So, she was miserable. She stayed confined to her room, like she had back in the Night Court. Servants brought her meals to her when she was hungry and then removed them when she was done.

But every day, she still had a fresh vase of flowers in her room. A servant brought them in with her lunch daily. The buds were not all perfect, and sometimes there were too many flowers stuffed into the vase, but she was grateful to have them.

She watched out her window each morning to see Lucien studying each patch of flowers, deciding which to cut for her today. There were daisies one day, imperfect roses another, even a day with blue bells. But her favorite vase that he had created was filled with all the flowers that could also bloom in the fall. He must have looked them up, or he remembered them from home. The thought made Elain sad. Helenium, golden rod, dots of candy tuft and Lucien’s precious lanterns. Cut perfectly this time so they sat in the water and draped over the edges of the glass.

She didn’t let the servant take that vase away. She changed the water every day, ripping off dead leaves so the flowers could continue to grow and thrive. Sometimes, she’d be reading in her bed and see them out of the corner of her eye. Her heart would start pounding. But the red in the flowers was not a glimpse of Lucien’s hair.

She missed him more than she cared to admit; he was her only friend at the manor. Nesta didn’t visit her often. Elain’s elder sister spent most of her time with Feyre or snooping around various crevices, searching for something useful to bring back to the Night Court when they were finally rescued. Feyre never left Tamlin’s side, though Elain knew that it was not out of affection. Her sister’s eyes were cold whenever the High Lord was near her, but he never seemed to come too close. Elain didn’t know how Feyre had forced Tamlin to keep his distance, but it was clear that she had.

The manor house was lonely. The servants were forbidden to talk to her, it seemed, and there was nothing much to do. She’d read the same book thrice now because she didn’t know where the library was and was too afraid to ask anyone to show her.

Lucien never came looking for her, either, the fact of which made her a little disappointed. She had figured he’d at least come to speak to her, however briefly, but he did not. He just picked her flowers every day and left her alone. So, Elain took matters into her own hands.

She didn’t want to be the one to cave first and go looking for him, but it _was_ her fault that they weren’t talking in the first place. She figured she could forge through the pain.

_As it turns out, it’s rather boring here without you_.

It was all she wrote, but she hoped it was enough. Elain sent the small piece of paper, decorated with her elegant handwriting, with a servant. Elain told the tall female that the note must be delivered _immediately_ , no dilly-dallying. She had nodded and left Elain to go back to her book.  

She watched through the window as the female darted into the gardens in search of Lucien. He was easy to find, his broad shoulders and tall figure easy to pick out amongst the short, pruned bushes and carefully planted flowers. The servant handed him the note and he quickly squared his shoulders. Elain could practically hear him clearing his throat as he strode past her and into the manor.

She jumped to her bed, fanning her skirt out around her carefully, burying her nose back into her book. At least she would be able to tell him what it was about in the blink of an eye, if he happened to ask. A careful knock sounded at the door and she called out for him to enter.

He really was quite beautiful. His cheekbones were sharp and pronounced, but not in a way that made him look sickly. His auburn eyebrows arched carefully in, giving him a constant expression of incredulity, and his eyes, both the real and metal one, were framed with lashes of garnet. She’d missed seeing him this close. Elain forced herself to look away.

Lucien cleared his throat.

“You wanted to see me?” She shrugged.

“Well there wasn’t much else to do.”

Lucien strode across the room to take a seat on the side of her bed. If she was being honest, it scandalized Elain more than she would have liked to admit. He was sitting so close to her, his body touching the fabric that she slept in every night. Images popped into her mind of her hands gripping the sheets beneath her as he— Elain blushed and looked down, thankful he was looking towards the painting hanging on the wall directly to the left of her bed.

“Is that really how you feel? Like you’re a monster?”

“Yes,” she said quietly. She was ashamed of what she’d said to him. Elain didn’t know she’d had that much resentment inside her. Or she did, but never thought to let it anywhere towards the surface.

“Do you— Does that mean you think _I_ —” Elain cut him off.

“Lucien, I never meant— “

“I know.” She crossed her legs underneath her.

“Did you know that I was engaged? Before all of this?” She said, her right hand instinctively coming up to touch her pointed ear. “He was a nobleman’s son. Kind, good-natured, smart. All the other ladies in our village would sneer at me when I walked past. He was mine and not theirs. When he proposed, I was ecstatic.

“My engagement ring was made of iron. When I was… Made, I wasn’t only taken away from my old life, but my betrothed. I was turned into the one thing he hates more than anything else. I am alone here, Lucien. And my wretched, traitorous body is telling me that I want to be near _you_. After losing _everything_ —” Elain broke off, tears streaming steadily down her cheeks. She kept her gaze on the door, away from Lucien.  He cleared his throat before speaking again. A nervous habit.

“Just because we have this… bond… none of this means that you never loved him, Elain, that you don’t still. Or that you ever must love me. I have spent my entire life praying to the Mother that one day I find a mate. Until a year ago, you didn’t even know such a thing could exist for you, for anyone, maybe. I will not force you to love me, Elain, this I swear to you. Everything we do is on your terms.

As for me, I am lost to you. I looked into your eyes that dreadful day, your hair soggy and anguish plain on your face, and I knew I would never hurt you. Elain, I would love you as human, as Fae, I’d probably even love you if you were a troll.” Elain laughed softly at that. “You find the beauty in things, Elain. Have you found any in me?”

Her breathing stopped for a minute, her focus intently on the golden finish of the door handle.

“Yes,” she said simply. She felt the mattress shift as he turned and moved closer to her. She felt his thumb on her cheek, just the barest brush, before she recognized his form in front of her.

“Then I do not doubt that you can find some in yourself. If you do not hate me for the reality of my species, my body, you have no right to hate yourself.”

Her focus shifted to his face as he caught a tear on his thumb, carefully bringing it to his mouth. Her gaze wouldn’t tear from his lips. His gaze moved to the left slightly, where she knew he’d find his flowers in the windowsill. Her cheeks turned pink and she hunched her shoulders.

“I gave those to you over a week ago,” he mumbled, as if to himself.

“I suppose so.”

“Elain, they aren’t even wilting.” She looked up at him. Of _course_ they were wilting. They _had_ to be wilting. They were sitting in direct sunlight and all she did was change their water. She stood carefully, sliding off the bed towards the window. Elain examined each flower and petal carefully, her eyes searching for any form of imperfection, a fallen petal, a drying leaf, but she found next to nothing.

She brought her thumb and forefinger up to touch one of Lucien’s lanterns. She yelped in surprise.

“Oh!” The petals had turned a darker shade of red at the brush of her fingers. Lucien was standing beside her now.

“Try again,” he urged excitedly. She dusted a nail across one of the Helenium. At the bottom of the vase, the stem grew until there were roots shooting out of it. She gasped again. Lucien shook his head beside her.

“You said your body was made to destroy. You could never destroy, Elain. You give life.”


	3. Part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know this has taken forever, so thank you guys so much for sticking with me. i didn't have time to edit this, so i apologize for that. as always, comments much appreciated!

Lucien worked with Elain for the next few weeks nonstop. He’d take her back to their field— something she was incredibly grateful of— and watch her poke and prod the flowers until they did as she wished. It was easier than she expected it to be. Lucien had thought that she’d been doing it, whatever _it_ was exactly, for months without noticing anything different. All things natural had always responded positively to her nurturing, but something had been accelerated in the past few months.

Elain couldn’t help but think that it had something to do with being around Lucien. Him being near had physical effects on her that she hadn’t thought possible. She immediately stood straighter in his presence, though more relaxed at the same time. She’d missed him after only a week or so apart. Her feelings for Lucien were just as ambiguous as before, but maybe there was more to their relationship than she’d thought there could be when she’d first arrived at the Spring Court.

“Let’s try it from a distance.” Lucien set his hand on her arm and gently coaxed her away from the field, back up towards their hill. They were only a few meters between her and the flowers, but her hands were sweaty, worried she wouldn’t be able to do anything. He nodded towards the flowers. “Go ahead.”

Elain furrowed her brow, her eyes trained on a daisy towards the front of the patch. _Grow_ , she urged it. _Do something_. The flower remained the same, not even a twitch. She grumbled in frustration.

“It’s okay, flower. Everything takes practice.” He slid the hand resting on her arm up to her shoulders and placed his other hand on the opposite one. Her skin prickled wherever he touched. “Relax, Elain,” he mumbled.

She could feel the tips of his hair brushing against her bare neck and she shivered. Elain closed her eyes, doing her best to focus on the task at hand. Lucien’s heart was pounding against her back. She could still feel it, lightly as they were pressed together. She let it ground her, breathing in time with the thump of his body against hers.

“Elain,” he said. His breath stirred the hair left to fall around her face. She could practically hear the smile in his voice. “Open your eyes, flower.”

She blinked them open and sucked in a gasp. There were flowers all the way up to her toes now. There wasn’t anything about them that would let someone know that they were not originally a part of the field. She fought tears of joy, turning to the line of aspen trees hiding the field from normal view. She concentrated again, relaxing into Lucien even more.

His hands moved to hold her biceps, lightly resting there. His touch was comforting, soft.

She kept her eyes open this time. Elain watched as sprouts formed across the edge of the field and then as they grew to fledglings, then past that to rival the size of the already-grown trees.

“I did it,” she said, a grin spreading across her face. Elain hadn’t smiled this wide since she’d been stolen from her home.

“Of course you did. You’re incredible, Elain.” Lucien’s face was now just beside hers, his neck straining to get the best view of her work. She blushed a deep red, turning her head away from his. The grass grew beneath her feet, as if it were reaching for her.

He cleared his throat, taking a step back from her.

“It seems that you can only make stronger that which was already there. You can’t create life out of thin air.”

“Yes,” she said, turning to face him.

“So only living things, then, I suppose.”

Elain’s brow furrowed again. That didn’t _feel_ right to her. She bent down carefully, plucking a small rock from the ground. The grass continued to stretch towards her, wrapping lightly around her fingers. She tugged away from it, smiling faintly. She rubbed the pebble between her fingers, considering it for a second before leaving it in the center of her palm and focusing all her brain power on it.

At first, nothing happened and Elain sighed. It was just a rock, after all. But slowly, it began to crack, a small green stem popping from it. It opened fully and the sprout grew into a daisy, an exact image of the one she’d been looking at earlier. It sat in the palm of her hand, anchored to the stone.

She looked up and smiled at Lucien. She found him smirking at her.

“Apparently, I was wrong.”

“I don’t presume it was the first time,” Elain teased.

“No,” he said, his face darkening, “It is not.” She thought of her sister, of Tamlin. Maybe he thought he’d picked the wrong side of this war, the wrong person to stay loyal to. It was silent for a minute and Elain forced herself to say something.

“I suppose I could turn you into a flower whenever you annoy me now,” she said, hoping to lighten the mood. He chuckled a bit.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“I most certainly would.”

“Then I’ll have to do my best not to annoy you,” he said, a grin now splitting his face, making his scar stand out even more. Elain found it rather enchanting, she couldn’t take her eyes off him.  

“It’s too late for that.” Lucien rolled his eyes at her and she giggled softly.

“Do I really annoy you?” The smile fell from his face and he looked her straight in the eye. She thought about it for a second, putting her hand to her chin in mock concentration.

“Only when you’re being stupid.”

“Always, then?” She laughed at that.

“No, Lucien. I’ve found that I rather like your company.” His eyes seemed to light up, just before he looked down at his hands.

“I think we should head back now.”

“No, thank you,” Elain said softly. She did not want to leave. She wanted to stay here in this field and practice her power, she wanted to find its limits. She wanted to be with Lucien, most of all; away from the world that tried to pressure her into things she was not.

Back at the manor, Elain felt guilty for wanting to see him, for wanting to understand him. There, she was a spy, a dagger stuffed into Tamlin’s unassuming palms. He thought nothing more of her than a gift for her younger sister, a way to appease Feyre. Elain was tired of being discounted.

“Elain, it’s getting late,” Lucien started.

“I would like to stay here. With you.” He opened his mouth to say something, but whatever words he had were caught in his throat.

“Alright,” he choked out finally. She walked further up the hill, where her flowers didn’t touch. Lucien dutifully followed.

She laid in the grass, watching the clouds float by. He joined her after a minute. He was closer than usual. She could feel the heat radiating off his body. Cautiously, she inched her hand toward his in the grass, tucking her fingers lightly into his.

“Is this okay?” She whispered it, as if she were afraid someone would be able to hear her.

“Yes,” he said, his voice thick. With her right hand, Elain grew tiny, white flowers around her fingers, letting them dance there.

They lay there for over an hour, just looking at the sky until it began darkening. They saw the beginning of the sunset before they rose, climbing back onto their horses and racing back to the manor. Lucien still beat her, even though Elain’s horsemanship had increased greatly since she had begun riding with him.

When Elain got back to her room, Feyre was waiting for her. Her sister’s delicate—but dangerous— limbs were folded carefully on top of her bed as she flipped through pages of a book.

“Feyre?” Elain asked cautiously. Feyre looked up and smiled at her, the spark that left her eyes whenever she was around Tamlin returning faintly. It reassured Elain to know that her baby sister wasn’t completely lost. She felt like someone needed her now. No one had never needed— or maybe even wanted— her before.

“I’ve been waiting here for a while. Were you out with Lucien?” Feyre gestured for Elain to come and join her. Elain thought it was a little silly, seeing as it was _her_ bed, but sat next to her sister without complaint. She nodded in confirmation.

“Have you learned anything yet?” Feyre said, her voice lowering. Ordinarily, Elain would laugh lightly and tell her she didn’t need to whisper, but in the Spring Court manor, there were eyes and ears everywhere, and heightened ones at that.

Elain blew out an exasperated sigh.

“I know the same things I knew two weeks ago. He thinks Tamlin has made some bad decisions. That’s all he’s said.” She could feel her voice showing slight irritation and tried to calm it down.

“I know. I’m sorry for asking. Is it that he doesn’t trust you?”

Elain stiffened, picking at her fingernails.

“He trusts me.”

“He’s got to know more. He must be _involved_ in all of this somehow. He isn’t innocent.” She was talking to herself now, her brow furrowed in concentration and frustration. Feyre looked down at her lap.

Elain felt her anger bubble over and did her best to hold it in, but found that it was more difficult than she would have thought.

“I know it was horrible for you here, Feyre,” Elain said softly so as not to anger her sister. “But you must consider that you were in this miserable cage for only a few months. Lucien has been here for _decades_. Do you not think that Tamlin has ever taken his anger, his possessiveness, his violence, out on Lucien? Do you not think that he is trapped here as much as you were?”

Feyre opened her mouth to speak, but Elain interrupted her again.

“He is a good man— male, Feyre. I wouldn’t be so quick to judge potential allies if I were you.”  

The youngest Archeron sister was quiet for a moment, considering Elain’s words and formulating a response of her own. Elain’s rage had fizzled by the time she’d finished her speech. All she’d been able to picture was Lucien: his mournful, anguished eyes, the careful twist of his smirk that was much rarer than she would have liked.

“Elain do you,” she paused, searching for the right words. “Do you want to see him after we leave the Spring Court?” She said carefully. Elain thought about it for a second.

“I don’t think I want to leave at all.”

Feyre’s face twisted into disbelief and something that looked like anger.

“You mean you want— “

“No, no,” Elain rushed to say. “I just mean that I do not think I would hate it. To stay here where the flowers always bloom and the air smells like perfume.”

Her sister’s face softened immediately.

“It suits you, Elain.” They were silent before Feyre spoke again. “ _He_ suits you.”

Elain looked up sharply. Feyre’s blue eyes were warm and inviting. When had her younger sister gotten so much older than her?

“I feel guilty,” Elain said finally. It let a weight off her heart, being able to talk to someone about what she was feeling. Nesta didn’t want to hear it and Elain wasn’t sure she wanted to tell her either. The only other person she talked to in the Spring Court was Lucien, and he was obviously not a valid choice to voice her problems to.

“Why?”

“I was engaged. I was in _love_. I was happy,” she said, shrugging. “It’s like I’m ignoring all of that.”

“Elain,” Feyre started. “It’s been almost a year. Loving someone new, or differently, doesn’t have to mean that you loved him less. Lucien is your mate, Elain. You owe it to yourself to give it a try.”

“You wouldn’t hate me?” Elain mumbled, afraid to look her sister in the eye.

“I’d love you even more,” she said. Elain felt tears welling in her eyes.

“I’m sorry I didn’t protect you, Feyre.” She finally broke, letting the water spill over and crash down upon her. Feyre gathered her older sister into her arms.

They fell asleep together, curled into Elain’s comforter, not bothering to make their way downstairs for dinner.

~

Elain was out of bed practically before the sun was fully up, leaving Feyre to snore in her bed. She dressed quickly and quietly shut the door behind her. The walk to Lucien’s room was nerve-wracking. She was afraid her hands would shake as she knocked on his door, but they didn’t.

He was groggy when he poked his head out the door, his body still hidden behind the wood. Elain could see his naked shoulder from where she was standing and she blushed a deep red. He blinked a few times before he seemed to register it was her.

“Elain?”

“I’d like to go practice some more,” she said quickly. Each word seemed to spit out of her, like the faster she spoke the less mortifying this experience could be. Hopefully, it would all blur together and she wouldn’t even remember it.

“Is there something wrong, flower? We normally don’t leave until much later.”

“I’m just… eager to get started again. After yesterday. I’m sorry if I woke you,” she added. She cleared her throat awkwardly and began rocking back and forth on her heels. She was dangerously close to his door. Just a step or two and she could push it open and step inside.

Lucien reached a long arm out to stop her anxious movement and it bared more of his skin. Elain fought a sharp inhale. There was a deep purple bruise on his shoulder, almost at his chest.

“What happened?” She mumbled. She took a step forward, reaching her hand out to touch it, but thought better of it at the last minute and brought it back to her side.  

“Sparring with Tam,” he grumbled, waving his hand in the air to dismiss her concern. “Just let me change. I’ll be out in a minute.”

Elain forced all thoughts of watching Lucien change out of her mind, but she only blushed deeper, the tips of her ears turning hot and pink. She tapped her foot on the marble floor while she waited for him to return, which he did quickly.

“After you,” Lucien said, gesturing mockingly for her to proceed. She rolled her eyes.

She was giddy by the time they climbed on to their respective horses and set off for the field. The sun had risen over the trees that surrounded the clearing the Spring Court manor was housed in, and Elain threw her head back and let the rays stream over her face.

“Eyes on the path, petal,” Lucien called back to her. When she returned her gaze to him, she found her stallion was veering slightly off track, ignoring the movement of Lucien’s mare in front of him.

She kicked the beast to catch up with Lucien and they rode side by side the rest of the way to their field. Lucien helped her down off her horse. She felt his hands linger at her waist longer than they needed to and was surprised by the shiver his fingers left along her spine. Or maybe she wasn’t surprised. Elain truly couldn’t decipher anymore. Her body was a mystery that her brain could grasp no better than it could war strategies.

Elain let flowers pop up in her wake as she followed Lucien into the clearing beyond the trees. Now, the small wildflower field even appeared in her dreams. She couldn’t escape it even in sleep, but she didn’t want to. Being here, being here with _Lucien_ , gave her a startling sense of calm. It was as if nothing could touch them beyond the trees. The war waging just outside the Spring Court’s boarders did not exist, nor did the incessant chatter of Tamlin’s household, nor the fact that she and Lucien were meant to be enemies.

Lucien plopped himself down unceremoniously at the crest of the hill, stretching his legs out in front of him and crossing them at the ankles. Elain had noticed he always sat this way, his hands behind him for support.

It was harder to look out at the field of flowers below since Elain had grown more of them too close to their usual resting spot. She still hadn’t been able to master _un-_ growing, but she didn’t think she’d need that particular skill any time soon. Or she hopped she wouldn’t. Nevertheless, the perfume of them still permeated her senses.

She sat beside him, closing her eyes to breath in the clear smell of her flowers. His fingers touched her ever so slightly, an accident. Lucien jerked his hand away quickly.

“I spoke with Feyre,” she said softly after a long moment of silence between the two of them.

“I wasn’t aware you hadn’t been speaking.”

“We were _speaking_ , just not about anything of true importance.” Elain picked at her blouse.

“And this time it was something of importance?” Lucien’s long hair was tucked back into a braid, but he’d forgotten a tiny chunk and the wind was blowing it into his face. He kept having to push it back behind his pointed ear.  

“I thought so.” Her heart was pounding in her chest. It was a wonder, really, that Lucien couldn’t hear it. To her, it sounded like drumbeats inside her skull.  It was silent for a moment longer.

“Well, are you going to tell me what you talked about or did you just want to inform me that you can have a decent conversation?” Lucien asked, the corner of his mouth upturned in a playful smirk, one that stretched his scar handsomely across his face.

“We talked about you.” Elain wasn’t breathing anymore. There was no air to force into her lungs. No matter how hard she tried, her body wouldn’t cooperate.

“Oh,” he mumbled. The smirk had fallen from his face. “Is that why you weren’t at dinner? Did you not want to see me?”

“Don’t be simple, Lucien,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I didn’t come to dinner because we— Feyre and I— fell asleep. If I didn’t want to see you, I wouldn’t have asked you to come out here— somewhere that I would be hard-pressed to see anyone _but_ you.”

“That is… logical.”

“Yes, it is.” She huffed slightly. Males could be so incredibly thick skulled.

“Why did you bring me out here, Elain?” Lucien’s voice was gentle and soothing, but it had no effect on her pulse, which was careening out of control.

“I thought we could talk,” she said carefully. He scoffed, cutting her off.

“We talk all the time.”

“I meant… Well I thought we could talk about this _bond_ or whatever it’s called.”

Lucien went still next to her.

“Oh,” he said again. Elain started bouncing her right leg, trying to get all her awkward, nervous energy out through the movement, but Lucien set his hand lightly on her thigh to stop her. “What about it?”

He attempted to sound casual, but the strain in Lucien’s voice was apparent.

“I don’t know anything about this. Are we considered mated now? What does it all mean?”

“No. No, we aren’t mated. You have to, um, accept the bond.” Elain had rarely seen Lucien this flustered in the several months she’d now known him. “It doesn’t mean anything until it’s been accepted. You— and I— are free to do anything right now. If you choose to accept…”

Elain could sense Lucien starting to say something self depricative, so she interrupted him.

“Is there a deadline?”

“What?” His brow furrowed quite adorably.

“Is there some kind of timeline in which I have to accept or decline this whole mating thing?”

“This bond will exist until one of us dies, whether you accept it or not.”

“Oh,” she said, nodding her head slightly. He began to stand from next to her.

“We should start back. We’ll miss lunch.”

Elain stood as well, her fingers shaking ever so slightly. He had stopped a few paces ahead and turned to look at her. She took the opportunity to carefully grow thick, wildflower stems around his legs, winding them carefully up each calf, confining him to his place.

He raised his eyebrows at her, watching as she strode cautiously towards him.

“I’m not hungry,” she said.

“We already missed breakfast, someone will start to wor—” He stopped his sentence abbruptly as Elain came to stand in front of him. She was close enough that she had to tilt her head up to see him, their breaths mingling. Neither of them spoke for a heart-stopping minute.

“I would like to kiss you now,” Elain said, as softly as she could without her words being lost in the wind. Lucien’s lips parted in surprise and Elain took it as approval.

She forced herself onto the tips of her toes, lightly setting her hands on Lucien’s shoulders to help her keep her balance. Her head tilted slightly to the side as she reached for him.

Lucien met her halfway, his lips coming down on hers in the softest, most gentile way possible. He tasted like cinnamon and Elain was afraid she’d get lost in him and never pull away. Thankfully, he did first, his hands still glued to his sides.

“Again.” More a question than a demand, but Lucien responded immediately anyway. His hands carefully found their way to her back, pressing her towards him just enough. This kiss was everything she’d ever imagined and nothing. It was drowning, it was breathing. It was a long night spent in the cold.

She felt the tug of the bond then, pooling in her gut, yanking her towards Lucien. Screaming for her to get closer, to kiss him harder, to touch every single inch of his body with her fingertips and then start all over again.

But Lucien’s kiss was still breathtakingly cautious, like he was afraid that if he touched her, she’d break in half, or run away, or never speak to him again. Elain pulled away from him this time.

“Lucien, I am a woman, not a wine glass. I will not break if you hold me like you mean it.”

He let out a breath that sounded like her name and in another second he was kissing her again, parting her lips with his, tracing his fingers up her semi-bare arms and over her shoulders to settle in her hair (which she’d thankfully left down and flowing in waves down her back).

Elain couldn’t feel the ground underneath her feet or the wind beating against her back. The sun was a distant memory, location thankfully long forgotten. All she knew was Lucien— his lips, his hair, his skin— and the pounding of her own heartbeat against his chest. Her fingers ran along his jawline, feeling the beginnings of stubble.

She let them wander further along his face as he pulled her more tightly against his body, still firmly rooted in place. Her fingers grazed his scar, just over his brow and he jerked back quickly, his hands dropping from her waist.

“I’m sorry, I— “

“Lucien,” Elain whispered, reaching her hand back up to touch his cheek. “You told me once not to be ashamed of the person I have become. I would encourage you to take your own advice.”

She carefully traced the line of his scar, all the way from his brow to his lips. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply, and she let the pad of her finger rest against his eyelid before it found its way to his mouth. From there, her finger lined his pink lips, chapped but beautiful. She rested her thumb at the seam, just in the middle.

“You don’t find it hideous?” His lips moved against her hand, his voice sounding slightly muffled, but she didn’t remove her hand.

“On the contrary. I think it’s beautiful.” She paused for a moment, thinking. “I think you’re beautiful.”

He didn’t open his eyes, but Elain could feel him fighting against a smile. He leaned in to kiss her once more. Elain thought she would be content to stay here, kissing Lucien in their own private field for the rest of eternity. She was out of breath when she pulled away.

“Maybe we should head back now,” she said, letting her fingers work their way into his hair. Lucien growled deep in his throat.

“No,” he said and pulled her lips back to his. Elain stopped complaining.


	4. Part 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i know i haven't updated in a while so i'm super sorry. thanks to everyone who has stuck with this. i hope you guys like it! (there will probably be at least one more part)
> 
> there's a little bit of some nsfw stuff at the beginning, just to warn you.

_The familiar manor house was cold as she made her way through it. She knew her way around, but Elain wasn’t used to going anywhere in this house without someone, a servant or something, by her side. She made her way quickly and quietly to his room. Graysen was waiting for her, his white teeth shining against his dark skin in a brilliant smile. Elain couldn’t help but smile, too._

_The minute he saw her, he came to her, his hands reaching their way across her waist, his head ducking to press a tender kiss to the side of her mouth, just off her lips. She shivered. He knew her so well, knew what would make her squirm, make her growl, make her pull him to her and kiss him hungrily._

_“Elain, my love,” he said. Graysen’s deep voice rolled through her. “I have missed you so.” He sighed and pulled her hair aside to bury his face in her neck, breathing her in. “You smell like flowers again, dearest.” His voice vibrated against her skin before he started pressing kisses to her throat._

_Elain was breathless. She had missed him, too. Missed him more than she could bear. Had missed his gentle tone, his soft lips, his big hands. Those hands tightened on her waist as he pulled her to him, kissing along her jaw._

_“Graysen,” she let out, barely any pitch to it. She felt his lips pull into a smile and he began walking her towards his bed, his mouth never leaving her skin. Her knees hit the side and she toppled back. Graysen was standing above her, looking down._

_He leaned forward quickly, his mouth capturing hers as he situated himself over her, his knees to one side of her and his forearms framing her head. He kissed her like it had been a cold, harsh winter and she was the spring finally coming to save them all, like no one else in the world mattered or even existed. Like everything was this: this touch, this kiss, this moment._

_Elain broke from his lips to trail her own down the side of his neck, but Graysen pulled away quickly._

_“Ah, ah, ah,” he chided, “that wouldn’t be very gentlemanly of me. Ladies first.” The words made Elain’s back arch. He forced his way through her bundle of skirts, cursing women’s fashion comically as he did so._

_Elain couldn’t stop giggling. She did her best to keep quiet, to make sure they wouldn’t be found, holed up in Graysen’s room. It wasn’t proper for Elain to be alone with him, much less alone in his bed with her skirts around her waist. But there was nowhere else she would have rather been._

_Graysen’s breath was hot as he made his way between her legs, his fingers dancing along the edges of her undergarments until Elain lifted her hips, almost begging for him to pull them off her and bury his tongue inside of her._

_“Gray,” she mumbled, and in a matter of seconds she was bared before him, his mouth pressing kisses along her inner thighs._

_“My love,” he said, voice gravelly. His tongue brushed her once before he looked up at her. Elain smiled, telling him silently that he could go on. But Graysen’s eyes hardened, his mouth changing from a sultry smile to a sneer. “Who are you?” He asked._

_“Gray, what do you mean? It’s me. Elain. It’s me.” His eyes only darkened more._

_“What have you done with my betrothed. What have you done?” His words grew in volume and Elain shrank back against the covers._

_“Graysen, please,” she begged. “You’re scaring me. It’s me. Graysen, it’s_ me _.” But either he didn’t hear or didn’t believe her._

_All of a sudden, there was a dagger in his hands, glinting from the light streaming through the windows. Elain couldn’t move. She tried telling her body to get up, to run, but she couldn’t. She was glued to the bed, her eyes wide and staring at the boy before her._

_He climbed over her, the knife still in his hands._

_“You deserve this,” he said. Elain felt a tear dripping down her cheek. “You are a_ monster _. Where is my Elain? What have you done with her?” She could only shake her head._ I don’t know, I don’t know _, she wanted to say._ I didn’t do it. _But nothing came out. “You have destroyed her,” Graysen said, just before he brought the knife down, straight into her heart._

~

Elain woke with a scream, her heart pounding rapidly in her chest. She was drenched in sweat, her sheets covered in it, too. She didn’t even notice the tears streaming down her face from all the stickiness still plastered to her body. Her nightdress was clinging to her.

Her door flew open just as she was trying to catch her breath. The light of the moon illuminated him just enough for Elain to know who it was. Lucien stood in the doorway, panting, his eyes finding her immediately. He crossed the room to her, his hands stretching to frame her face.

“Are you alright? Are you alright? Elain, Elain, Elain. Are you okay? What happened?” The words tumbled out of him like a river. His russet eye shone with worry as he searched her face, her eyes, her body for any sign of harm. He relaxed a bit when he found no physical injuries, but didn’t remove his hands.

Tears were streaming down her face in earnest now, but Lucien did his best to wipe away each one as it presented itself.

“It was a dream,” she said, the words coming out more like a sob. “It was just a dream. But, oh, Lucien, it was _awful_.” He leaned forward to rest his forehead against hers and Elain’s breathing started to slow.

“It’s okay,” he mumbled, the deep timbre of his voice soothing her.

“I was there, with Graysen. And he, he— “Elain choked on a sob. Lucien’s hand snuck behind her head to comb through her hair. Nesta used to do the same when they were younger and Elain had a nightmare, or had fallen and skinned her knee. She took a deep breath. “He called me a monster. He asked what I’d done, who I was.”

Lucien scooted closer to her on the bed so that he was kneeling in front of her.

“You are no monster, Elain. You would never do anything to hurt another. If anything, you are the blessed spirit sent here to cleanse all the rest of us. And this _is_ you, Elain. Just because you are not the exact same girl you were in the human realms, does not mean you are less yourself. Do you… do you feel that way?” Lucien’s gaze searched hers.

“Yes. Maybe. I don’t know. I… The girl I was there would never have been able to survive this. I am not her any longer. I can’t afford to be. But I don’t… I don’t know anything, Lucien.”

His fingers continued their path through her hair, gently combing through the knots. She briefly wondered how he knew what would hurt her and what wouldn’t, but then she remembered his own flowing tresses.

“You don’t have to, petal. But know that I will stand behind you. I will never stop trying to make you understand how _breathtaking_ you are, how lovely you are, how _kind_ you are. Elain, you are the kindest person I have ever met.”

She leaned further into him until she was almost curled into his lap, his hands never ceasing their movement along her hair and skin. She thought she might fall back asleep that way, but thoughts kept tugging at her mind, refusing to let her get any rest, do anything that wasn’t worry.

“You say I am not a monster,” she said finally. “That I would never wish harm upon anyone. But that is not true. I wish death on that horrid King of Hybern, a slow and painful one. I wish to make him suffer for all the pain he has caused me, caused my _family_. I wish that the human queens would one day get caught in between places when winnowing and be stuck there forever. And I would gladly, _gladly_ ,” she said, turning his head so he was looking into her eyes, “wreak havoc upon Tamlin and all he holds dear for the terrible, awful things he has done to you.”

Lucien said nothing. Elain searched his single russet eye for a glimmer of disgust, something that would tell her she was as terrible as she felt, that she truly was a monster. But there was nothing. Just quiet understanding.

“I think I might hate him most of all,” she mumbled quietly. Lucien just looked at her some more. His russet eye was shining with something, but Elain had stopped trying to read his emotions. She waited for him to say something, to tell her what he was thinking. But he didn’t. He only leaned down and pressed a tender kiss to her lips.

Lucien pulled back too soon, and Elain raised her hand to trace the scar across his face. The raised skin didn’t feel unusual under her fingers, but just a part of him now. She kissed the tip of it, on his forehead, carefully before moving to kiss the bottom that rested at the top of his lips. She had to hold his head and pull it to her to be able to reach.

Lucien kissed her softly once more before he helped her sit so she was facing him. He kept his gaze on her as he removed the cotton shirt he’d thrown on when coming to find her. Elain watched with wide eyes and took in the sharp planes of his stomach, his chest, even his collarbones were breathtaking.

She’d seen Graysen naked plenty of times, though they’d never _actually_ had sex. But something about sitting in her bed with Lucien in front of her changed the way she thought about bodies. Not only was Lucien’s incredibly alluring, it was also a work of art. Everything about his figure, from his slim waist to his broad shoulders even to his (massive) feet, screamed impossible. No one could be _this_ perfect. But he was.

She tried to stay where she was and simply watch him undress, but a steady beat had already started in between her legs, so she lifted herself onto her knees and crawled towards him. His arms were already held out for her and they wrapped around her waist immediately.

Lucien’s lips fit so perfectly into hers Elain had to use all of her might not to get completely and utterly lost in him, though she didn’t think he would mind if she did. He knew everything that would please her without her telling him, though sometimes she did that as well.

Finally, she pulled away from him, both of them panting and a dangerous spark in their eyes. Lucien looked at her, and Elain looked back at him and it was like nothing in the world mattered or existed. It was just the two of them in Elain’s overly-frivolous bedroom. Neither of them said anything for a long while.

“Did your dream,” Lucien paused to clear his throat uncomfortably, “Did your dream upset you so much because it was him?” Elain shook her head slowly.

“Graysen… He was my first love. He was the first person to offer me another life. I thought I’d be safe with him. That’s half of why I loved him, I think. For that alone, I will forever be in his debt. But I do not think I have it in me to love him anymore. I owe it to him, and to myself, to let myself truly move on. Or to acknowledge that I already have.” Elain’s voice was barely a whisper, but Lucien heard every word. His breath had gotten caught in his chest at some point as she was speaking, and he only let it out when she looked up from her hands and into his face.

“Elain,” he mumbled. Lucien thought he could say her name a million times and it would never lose its meaning, its delicate flow. So many other words stopped being words when you said them enough. But not her name. He would never get tired of it. Lucien wished, not for the first time, that he could whisper it along her body, murmur it into her ear, press it gently upon her lips.

“What if I loved you, Lucien?” Elain asked. From anyone else, it might have sounded stupid. But from her lips, those lips he found himself mesmerized by often, from her mind, it was the simplest, most sincere question he’d ever heard. “What then?”

“Then whatever you want,” he said honestly. “We could wait, as long or short as you wished, or we could winnow to a High Priestess right now and be declared officially mated. But I would be very, very glad if you did. Love me, that is. If you decided to give me that chance.” Elain rolled her eyes and Lucien felt his heart stop in his chest. She’d been _mocking_ him, she—

“I’ve already given you plenty of chances, Lucien,” her face softened, but Lucien still felt like something had grabbed hold of his chest and was slowly, steadily crushing it. “And in each, you’ve proven to me that you are absolutely impossible to resist.”

Lucien wanted to wink and retort that _of course he was_ , but all he could do was stare at her. At her face, at her delicate brown eyes, the scars still lining the tips of her pointed ears, the bow of her lips.

“I would like to explore this. I would like,” Elain said firmly, “to explore _you._ ” Lucien’s breath hitched again, but Elain could finally breathe. Finally, after months of denying herself what she truly wanted— to understand the inner workings of Lucien’s mind, to map each contour of his body, press her lips carefully to every scar, to wake up with his scent filling her to the brim with happiness— she’d finally set herself free.

Elain did not bother with techniques of seduction, which was perhaps why Lucien was going absolutely insane. He could smell her; the sweat from her nightmare mingled with the soft scent of floral perfume, and it, too, was driving him mad. But he restrained himself. Elain hadn’t moved. 

“Lucien,” she said quietly, but with more intensity than he could have imagined. Her voice sing-songed along the vowels of his name. She pulled his hand into hers and just lightly brushed her fingers along it, sending a spike of heat down his spine.

Before he could say anything, Elain had leaned forward and captured his lips with her own. It was like a dance, kissing Lucien. He was graceful where she was messy, cautious where she was forceful. But somehow, everything worked. Somehow, the world melted away until there was nothing but the feel of his lips on hers, the pressure of his hand resting against her back.

Lucien pulled away after some time, his breathing, like Elain’s, labored. His russet eye was gleaming in the sunlight and his lips were swollen. Elain thought he’d never looked more beautiful.

This time, he pulled her to him and kissed her. His arms wrapped tightly around her, one of his hands resting lightly in her hair. Elain was having none of that. She slid her hand behind his head and held him firmly, her tongue parting his lips. Lucien was surprised, but not opposed, and his hand tightened in her hair.

She was perfect, truly. Everything about her was so incredibly unblemished. Lucien never wanted to leave her sight again, leave her embrace. He felt like all the world was their own, like nothing could touch them. And he was finally _safe_.

Elain lost herself in Lucien. Every breath of air that forced them to part was excruciating, and nothing would calm the incessant pounding of her heart. But for once in her life, she wasn’t ashamed. Elain only groaned and pulled him closer. Her mate. Her _mate_.

Lucien tugged away from her once more, pressing a gentle kiss to the edge of her mouth in an apology. He slid one hand carefully through her hair, from roots to tips, tugging on the knots with his fingers until they came undone.

“I don’t want to rush anything, flower,” he mumbled, his lips tucked against her forehead. “We can take our time.” Elain let out a quiet _humph_ but when Lucien pressed a kiss to her temple, she sighed contentedly, leaning into him. 

“Will you stay with me tonight?” She asked, her voice muffled against his bare chest, her breath tickling it ever so slightly. Lucien looked out the window to see that it was still dark outside, not even a hint of light in the sky. He wondered for a moment if he’d ever looked at the night at the same time as her, even from across the wall. The thought gave him a sort of subtle comfort.

“Of course I will. Anything for you, dove.” Elain smiled, a faint blush forming on her cheeks. She pulled away from him reluctantly and Lucien shivered from the cold. He got up silently and went to extinguish the light he’d brought with him from his room when he’d felt her anguish through the bond. Before doing so, he loosened the leather bracelets he kept lining his left arm and dropped them onto her dresser, one by one.

When he had returned to the bed, Elain lifted the heavy covers long enough for Lucien to slide in under them, lying so he was looking up at the ceiling, one hand resting lightly on his stomach, the comforter pushed down to his hips. Elain maneuvered herself into a similar position, though she was covered all the way up to her chin.

Their arms were just close enough that she could feel a gentle heat radiating off his body. If she stretched her hand just barely an inch, she’d be able to touch him. But she didn’t. Lucien remained motionless as well, though she knew he was just as aware of the charged space between them. He might be centuries older, but both of them were new to the bond and the constant rage of emotions was hard to suppress for both parties. 

“Goodnight, Lucien,” she said, her voice coming out like a whisper.

“Goodnight, Elain.” Lucien could hear her breathing and it was driving him crazy. She was so _close_. They’d touched often enough now that it shouldn’t have been uncomfortable for him to be just an inch away from her, but there was something about lying in her bed. Alone in bed with the woman he loved, his _mate._ Lucien was almost trembling from the effort of staying apart from her. To make things worse, Elain was clad only in a satin nightdress and Lucien’s shirt was lying somewhere on the floor, and in some wicked way it felt both painfully wrong and irrevocably right for them to be so bare in front of one another.

There was nowhere in all of Prythian that Lucien would rather be, no one he would rather spend his days with, spend his nights with. Elain was almighty. She was everything he had ever dreamed of but thought he would never be permitted to have. She was the candle in a five-hundred-year strain of darkness. She was the first bloom of spring after a long winter, the first breath of air after coming up from underwater. She was all things good and beautiful and strong and he was so hopelessly in love with her.

Lucien knew in his bones that he would have loved her, mate bond or not. Some nights he found himself wishing that he’d known her sooner, that she’d been there for him sooner. But he also knew that it was not her job to pull him out of his misery. She had just given him a reason to do it for himself.

“This is absurd,” Elain tutted. Lucien could hear the sheets ruffling as she tossed and turned. “You are my _mate,_ ” she grumbled and Lucien’s heart flew into his throat, “not some stranger I met on the side of the road. We do not have to stay apart any longer, Lucien.”

He blew out a deep breath, but didn’t move. Elain groaned and turned over on her side so she was facing him.

“Lucien, look at me, please,” she mumbled. He tilted his head to the side and found Elain’s face much closer than he thought it would be. If he leaned forward just the tiniest bit, they’d be kissing. He strongly considered the idea. “I give you express permission to touch me.”

At that, she leaned forward and pressed a tender kiss to his lips, giving him just a second before she pulled away. Lucien sighed faintly and Elain turned over again, facing away from him. The sheets rustled and she began to feel the heat of his body on hers. He tentatively slid one arm around her waist before pulling her to him so that her back was flush against his chest. She could feel his breath against her neck, rustling the hair there.

It felt like everything she’d ever wondered about, every question she’d ever had was answered by his body against hers this way. It was a missing piece to a long unsolved puzzle, finally learning the correct answer to a riddle. It was all consuming, it was simple and it was perfect.

“Goodnight,” Elain said again. She felt Lucien’s lips against her when he spoke.

“Goodnight, my love.”


End file.
